Law and Disorder
by Tweeter
Summary: COMPLETE: Tony runs into trouble with corrupt local law officials. Chapter 8 of 8 uploaded.
1. Chapter 1

Law and Disorder

By Tweeter.

_Disclaimer:_ I don't own the NCIS characters, I guess I own the original ones. I'm not making any money writing this. The city and county are made up names.

A/N: Thanks to Rinne, my patient and fast beta, and Research Geek, whose movie suggestion was inspiring.

* * *

The elevator doors opened with a swoosh and a ping; Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo disembarked cheerfully, humming softly to himself as he made his way to his desk. 

"Good morning, Probie," he said, heartily.

Special Agent Timothy McGee was sitting at his desk, looking decidedly pale. His face was a waxy color and there was a thin sheen of perspiration on his upper lip. He grunted noncommittally at his teammate's cheerful greeting.

Tony dropped his pack next to his desk and looked over at the other agent.

"You look like something the cat dragged in, McGee," he observed. "Late night fighting demons and dragons online?"

"I'm not feeling well," McGee said shortly, hoping the other man would leave it at that and let him die in peace. No such luck.

Looking interested, Tony walked over. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Hangover? Acid indigestion? Cough due to cold?"

"I think it may be food poisoning," McGee said, resigned to the fact that Tony wasn't going to let it drop.

Tony winced. "Nasty," he said, sympathetically. "Been puking your guts out?"

McGee nodded, then immediately regretted the movement. His face turned white and he stood up and rushed to the men's room.

Walking into the squad room, carrying a cup of coffee, Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs observed the youngest member of his team stumbling out.

"What's wrong with McGee?" he asked Tony.

"Food poisoning."

"Ahh." Gibbs grinned. "Get your things together, DiNozzo," he said.

"Where we headed, Boss?" asked Tony.

"_You_ are headed to Hicksville, West Virginia, DiNozzo," replied Gibbs, "to question a corporal about some weapons that disappeared from the depot at Quantico."

"Hicksville? You're joking, right?" Tony stood with his pack already thrown over his shoulder. Gibbs just looked at him, a small smile on his face.

"Alone?" Tony asked.

"I was going to send McGee with you," said Gibbs, "but it doesn't look like he'll be able to make the trip. You'll take Ziva. Where _is_ Officer David?"

At that moment the elevator opened and a very flustered Ziva David came rushing off, muttering to herself in a language that neither man understood.

"You're late, Officer David," growled Gibbs.

"Yes, yes, I know, I'm sorry," Ziva said irritably. "I've been on the phone all morning with the State Department."

"Ooo, sounds bad," Tony said. "They deporting you?"

Ziva made a face at Tony and continued, "There's a problem with my work visa. I have to go and straighten it out. In person. Now."

"You've got to go with DiNozzo to question a possible witness," said Gibbs.

"Gibbs," protested Ziva, "if I don't get this straightened out they _will_ deport me."

By this time McGee had returned to his desk, looking pale and shaky. "Deport you?" he asked. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything," growled Ziva. "There was something missing from my paperwork and I have to go in personally and prove I am who I say I am."

"Can't the Director help you?" asked Tony.

Ziva shook her head. "I tried that. They insist I go in and bring my passport and birth certificate and fill out some paperwork that someone forgot to send in and the government is only just now noticing is missing."

Tony chuckled. "That's the government for you. McGee, looks like it's you and me. Road trip! You can hang your head out the window if you feel sick."

McGee, having laid his head down on his desk, looked up in alarm. "Car?" he said, gulping. "I don't think I can take a long car ride," he added dubiously.

"Come on, suck it up," scolded Tony. McGee's eyes turned glassy, then he pushed his chair back and rushed back to the men's room.

"What's wrong with him?" asked Ziva.

"Food poisoning," replied Tony and Gibbs.

"DiNozzo, you're on your own," said Gibbs briskly. "It should be a cut-and-dried interview, you can handle it."

"Right, Boss." Tony headed out of the squad room, winking at Ziva as he passed her. "Have fun at the State Department," he said, grinning, dodging the wad of paper she threw at him.

Gibbs turned to Ziva. "How long do you think it'll take you to straighten things out?" he asked.

Ziva shrugged. "I don't know, but if the people there are as bad as the person on the phone, it could take all day."

"Better leave your weapons," Gibbs advised. "We wouldn't want you to create an international incident. McGee," he barked, startling the young agent as he weaved back to his desk. "Go home, you're useless to me here."

"Sorry, Boss," McGee said, gathering his things together.

"What did you eat?" asked Ziva.

"Homemade sushi," he replied, swallowing convulsively at the thought of the offending food.

"Well there ya go," said Gibbs. "You always let the professionals prepare that stuff."

Smiling weakly, McGee replied, "Right, Boss. You can reach me on my cell if you need me."

"I know," said Gibbs, waving him out of the squad room. "Go, before you lose it right here."

* * *

Hicksville was a small town, with a population of a little over 200, in Dawson County, West Virginia. Tony drove through the sleepy little town whistling the theme to the Andy Griffith Show to himself, half expecting to see a little boy in ragged overalls walking down the street carrying a fishing pole. He had just completed the interview with Corporal Jesse Turner, getting the information he needed and informing the young man that he would be needed to testify if a trial were called for. Now, his stomach was rumbling and he needed to fill it with some good, old-fashioned home cooking. At least that's what the sign on the diner proclaimed it served. 

Settling down on a fake leather stool at the counter, Tony flashed a grin at the pretty young waitress.

"Well, hello, handsome," Sally Johnson said, adjusting her uniform to show off her ample cleavage. "What brings you to these parts?"

"Just passing through on business," Tony replied, eyeing the young woman appreciatively. "I thought I'd stop in and grab a bite to eat. What do you recommend?"

"That you go find the nearest McDonalds, the food here's terrible," replied Sally, winking.

"I heard that, Sally," the cook yelled from the kitchen. "You stop scaring off the customers, or you won't have no place to work, ya hear?"

"I hear ya, Clem," yelled Sally, wrinkling her nose at Tony. "Don't go gettin' all bent out of shape, I'm just joshin' with him."

Sally leaned over the counter, giving Tony a good view, and whispered, "Safest thing to eat is the hamburger and fries, darlin'"

"Well then," Tony said, smiling, "that's what I'll have. And a Coke, please."

"You got it." Sally wrote the order down and slapped it onto the back counter. "Order up!"

"Sally," a man at the end of the counter called out, "you think I can get some more coffee over here?"

"I'm coming," she winked at Tony and whispered, "I'll be back."

"I'll be here," he said. Tony looked around the diner, taking in the ambiance, if you could call it that. It was a typical small diner with a lunch counter and a scattering of tables. There were three booths along the wall, the covering on the seats looked old and cracked, duct tape covering the tears. There were three other customers, a man who looked like a farmer, sitting at the counter reading a paper and drinking coffee; an old man muttering to himself at one of the tables and a police officer of some sort, sitting in one of the booths, staring at Tony. Tony nodded at him politely, getting no response from the other man.

"Here ya go, sugar." Sally put Tony's lunch down in front of him. "What's your name?"

"Tony," replied the agent. "Anthony DiNozzo, but my friends call me Tony."

"DiNozzo? Is that Italian?" she asked.

Tony nodded, pouring ketchup onto his hamburger. "It is."

"I never met an Italian before," Sally said. "All of you as good lookin'?"

Tony laughed. "Are all the West Virginia girls as gorgeous and sassy as you?"

Sally laughed "You bet we are, sweetie," she said, throwing him a sultry look. "You gonna be sticking around for awhile?"

Tony shook his head. "No, my boss'll kill me if I don't get back soon," he said reluctantly. "I'll be headed back once I finish this delicious burger."

"What do you do?" Sally leaned against the counter, letting the front of her uniform gape open.

"I work for NCIS," he said. "We investigate crimes for the Navy and the Marines." Tony was beginning to tire of the game. While he liked playful banter with a beautiful woman, Sally Johnson was too forward for him, not at all subtle.

"So, you're a Navy cop?"

"Something like that."

"This guy bothering you?" Tony turned to see the officer glowering at him. Upon closer inspection, he could see that the man was with the Sheriff's department.

"No, Luther," sighed Sally. "We were just talking."

She straightened up and fixed her uniform. "Tony, this is my brother, Deputy Luther Johnson. He's with the Dawson County Sheriff's Department."

"Nice to meet you." Tony reached out to shake the other man's hand, but Johnson just stood there, glaring.

"Tony's a Navy cop, Luther, so be nice to him, he's a fellow officer of the law."

"That right?" Johnson squinted appraisingly. "You don't look like a cop to me."

"Federal cop," corrected Tony. "Note the suit."

"You think you're better than me?" Johnson stepped forward threateningly.

Tony put his hands up in surrender. "Come on, now; I'm just sitting here trying to eat my lunch. No harm, no foul."

"Leave him alone, Luther," said Sally. "Sheriff Nelson'll have your hide if you start another fight."

Johnson stuck his face close to Tony's. "I don't like you, boy. You better get back to the city, real soon."

Tony didn't blink. "I'll be on my way soon," he said calmly.

"You better be," Johnson said, turning to leave the diner. "Stay away from my sister." He slammed out of the diner, causing the door to shake on its hinges.

"Nice guy," Tony said to Sally.

"He's not bad," Sally said, shrugging. She went back into the kitchen. Tony had pretty much lost his appetite. He noticed that the cook and the customer at the counter avoided looking at him. Pulling out his wallet he left a ten dollar bill on the counter and left.

Once Tony was in the car he pulled out his cell phone to call Gibbs.

"Hey Boss," Tony said when he heard Gibbs on the line, "I finished interviewing Corporal Turner and I'm on my way back now. I should be there in about three hours."

"Everything go okay?" asked Gibbs.

"Yeah, everything was fine. Turner's on leave for the next week, but he'll be back on base and available if we need him. In the meantime, we can find him at his folks' place in Hicksville."

"Good. Get back here right away." Gibbs cut the connection.

"Goodbye to you too," muttered Tony, closing the cell phone.

The road leading from Hicksville through Dawson County wasn't much more than a gravel covered lane. The black company sedan was gray with the dust kicked up by the tires. Tony was trying to find a station on the radio when he heard the siren and saw the flashing red lights behind him.

"Now what," he muttered, pulling over.

That was the last time anyone saw him.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Wow, what a response! Thanks for all the reviews, I'm overwhelmed.

* * *

Government buildings are usually drab; taxpayers don't like their money spent on fancy furniture and decorations. The waiting room Ziva found herself in was large, with rows of uncomfortable plastic chairs filled with people of all sizes and nationalities. At the end of the room were three desks manned by three very harassed-looking people.

Ziva walked up to one of the security guards. "Excuse me..." she started.

"Take a number," the man said shortly, indicating a machine with a piece of paper sticking out of it.

Taking a deep breath, Ziva pasted a phony smile on her face and tried again. "I was told to come here and I would be taken care of right away," she said.

"No appointments," the guard said. "You have to take a number and wait with the rest of the people here."

"You don't understand," Ziva said, trying hard to maintain her composure. "I'm a government agent, I need to..."

"No exceptions," the guard said firmly, glaring at the smaller woman.

Ziva closed her eyes and counted to ten, wondering how Gibbs knew she should leave her weapons at the office. She was certain if she had her gun with her she would have drawn it and threatened the offending man. As it was, the man didn't know how close he came to being thrown to the floor, suffering a few broken bones along the way.

Letting out a slow, deep breath, Ziva opened her eyes and smiled at the guard. She walked over to the machine and took a number with exaggerated enthusiasm and sat down in one of the plastic chairs.

The woman in the seat next to her leaned over and said, "They're pretty strict, aren't they?" Ziva turned to look at the woman, who smiled broadly. She was older, mid-fifties, with curly hair dyed an unnatural red. Ziva couldn't quite place her accent, guessing it was Eastern European.

"Yes," she said ruefully, "it looks as if I'll be spending some time here."

"I'm Sophie," the older woman said. "I've been here for an hour already and they've only called three people up."

"An hour?" Ziva sputtered. "That's ridiculous. I have a job. I have a life. I can't spend my whole day here."

Sophie patted her shoulder sympathetically. "It won't do you any good..." She gave Ziva a questioning look.

"Ziva."

"What a pretty name! Well, it won't do you any good, Ziva," Sophie said, "they don't give anybody special treatment. My son's a lawyer and he couldn't get anywhere with the blockheads on the phone."

"That's just great," muttered Ziva, slumping into her chair.

"Would you like something to read?" The woman fumbled in the bag she was carrying and pulled out a copy of Ladies Home Journal. "Here you go, dear," she said, pushing the magazine into Ziva's hands, despite the young woman's protests.

This was going to be a long day.

* * *

Tony's head felt like someone had hit him with a two-by-four. Thinking about it he realized it was a nightstick. He vaguely remembered being pulled over by the Sheriff's Department. The officer wasn't Deputy Johnson, but an older man, tall, muscular, with a definite attitude. He ordered Tony to get out of the car and when the agent had reached in to grab his wallet he was hit from behind. 

Now Tony found himself hanging in what appeared to be a barn. He could smell livestock, but didn't see or hear anything in any of the stalls. There were bales of hay stacked against the wall, and a ladder leading up to a hayloft. He was suspended from a wide beam, his wrists shackled with a pair of handcuffs, the chain hooked to a heavier chain bolted to the beam. His jacket, belt and shoes had been removed, and his feet were two feet off the ground, chained together and attached to a metal ring bolted to the floor.

"Here's another fine mess you've gotten yourself into, Anthony," he muttered to himself. He struggled for a bit, pulling down on the cuffs resulting in nothing but badly chafed wrists. Pulling up on the chain hooked to the floor did no good either; he was definitely in serious trouble.

After what seemed like hours, Tony heard a car pull up. Three door slams warned him that he was going to face at least three people. Tony feigned unconsciousness, keeping his eyes open slightly to see who his captors were. The older officer entered, followed by Johnson and his sister. Seeing Sally surprised him but also gave him hope that he could charm her into helping him escape. She had shown enough interest in him that she might believe any sweet talk he fed her.

The bigger man grabbed Tony's hair and pulled his head up, slapping his face with his other hand.

"Wake up, boy," he growled.

Tony opened his eyes and gazed blearily at the man in front of him. "Just ten more minutes," he said, "school doesn't start until 8:30."

Sheriff Robert Nelson drew back and hit Tony, the agent's head snapping back with the force of the blow.

"You got a smart mouth on you, boy," he said, hitting Tony again, "that'll get you a lot of trouble."

Tony spit blood on the floor, "It has before," he said, his head spinning, "why be different now?"

"Bobby, don't mess up his face too much," Sally said, "he's so pretty."

"Shut up, Sally," barked Nelson. "I'll deal with you later."

"But Bobby," pouted Sally, "I didn't do nothing. I was just playing with him."

"That's enough." Nelson turned to Tony. "You need to learn that you don't mess with another man's woman." A couple of well-placed blows caused Tony to lose what little lunch he had eaten and left him gasping for air.

Nelson looked down at his boots, then back at Tony who smiled weakly and said, "Sorry."

"Oh, you will be." The look on the Sheriff's face sent a chill down Tony's spine.

"Use the whip, baby," squealed Sally. "I love to watch the muscles in your back and arms move when you whip 'em."

"Luther, get me my tools," Nelson called over his shoulder to his deputy, never taking his eyes off Tony. He took off his shirt and grinned at the helpless agent.

"Now we're gonna teach you a lesson."


	3. Chapter 3

Gibbs had been working on overdue paperwork the Director insisted he finish before the end of the day. He would much rather be out with his Senior Field Agent, interviewing the witness, no matter how dull the interview would be. He'd rather be anywhere other than sitting at his desk filling out reports.

Actually, a long road trip with DiNozzo wouldn't be bad.Truthfully, Gibbs enjoyed the young man's company; Tony seemed to be in a perpetual good mood, and he was one of the few people who could make Gibbs laugh. Sure, the kid talked a blue streak, but he would shut up when necessary.

Thinking of Tony, Gibbs looked at his watch and frowned. DiNozzo should have been back by now. He picked up his phone and hit the speed dial for DiNozzo's cell, frowning when he went straight to voicemail. Either the younger agent was talking to someone or his phone wasn't on. Hitting the switch hook, Gibbs hit the speed dial for Abby's lab.

"Sciuto's Den of Inequity, what's your pleasure?" Gibbs grinned at the playful greeting.

"Abs, can you do a trace on DiNozzo's cell, he's not answering and he's overdue."

"Will do, Bossman," Abby replied, the sound of her keyboard clicking coming over the line. "Hmmmm, his phone must be off, I can't get a signal."

"Could he be out of a calling area?"

"That wouldn't affect the GPS signal, that goes through a satellite," Abby replied. "Do you think he's in trouble?" she asked worriedly.

"He will be, if I find out he turned his phone off," growled Gibbs. "Thanks, Abs, keep trying, okay?"

"I will," she said, setting her computer to constantly search for a signal from Tony's phone.

* * *

Ziva was in the middle of an article about crocheting holders for hanging plants when her phone rang. Pulling the phone out distractedly, still reading the article, she put the device to her ear, muttering a greeting. 

"David, I need you back here right now," Gibbs' voice blasted through the earpiece, causing Sophie to look up from her knitting.

"What's wrong?" asked Ziva.

"Tony hasn't come back from his interview and he's not answering his cell. It's turned off, so we can't get a GPS fix on him."

Ziva sat up straighter, her senses on aler., "Do you think something has happened to him?"

"I don't know," was the grim reply. "Get back here, we may need to go look for him."

"I'm on my way." Ziva closed her phone and started gathering her things.

"Leaving?" asked Sophie.

"Yes, I'm afraid I'm needed back at the office," replied Ziva. "Do you mind if I keep this?" she asked, indicating the magazine Sophie had lent her. "There's a great article about painting a mural in the bathroom that I'd love to try at home."

Sophie waved her off. "Of course, dear, be my guest. I hope you get your paperwork straightened out later."

"Me too," replied Ziva. "Thank you, Sophie, it was very nice meeting you."

"You too, sweetheart, you take care."

Ziva pulled her bag over her shoulder and hurried out.

* * *

The interior of the barn was dark, moonlight filtering in through the cracks in the old wood of the barn. Inside was quiet, the silence broken by the restless shuffling of the horses in their stalls. The large animals were nervous, their sensitive noses picking up the smell of blood. 

As Tony slowly regained consciousness he became acutely aware of the pain. Carefully, he opened one eye, then the other, grateful that the Sheriff had listened to his girlfriend and hadn't damaged much of Tony's face. The rest of him, on the other hand, felt like it had been used as a punching bag, which wasn't far from the truth.

He was still hanging from the ceiling. Tony felt blood trailing down his arms, indicating that the cuffs had dug deeply into his wrists. He hoped there wasn't any permanent damage to the tendons and ligaments. From the difficulty he had breathing he could tell he had more than a few broken ribs. Tony shifted a bit and cried out in pain, startling the horses, causing them to stamp their feet and snort in alarm. He stayed as still as possible, panting in order to control the pain that radiated from his shoulder.

Tony closed his eyes, trying desperately to think of a way out of there, but realizing he was in no position to do anything. Even if his captors unchained him, he was in no condition to fight them; he was well and truly screwed. Tony's only hope was that Gibbs would wonder what had happened to him and would come looking. He just hoped it was in time.


	4. Chapter 4

Gibbs slammed the receiver down in frustration, nearly breaking his phone. He had been trying to get the local sheriff's department on the phone all evening, with no luck.

"Still can't reach the local police?" asked Ziva.

"No." Gibbs scowled at his phone as if willing the elusive man to call him.

"Corporal Turner said that Tony left his house around noon. He didn't say anything about stopping somewhere first, there wasn't any reason to check in with the local authorities," Ziva said.

"No," agreed Gibbs, "but most of Tony's drive would have been through Dawson County. If he was in an accident they would know about it."

"He could have had an accident anywhere, Gibbs," Ziva pointed out.

Gibbs glared at her. "Which is why we have a BOLO out on the car, Officer David," he said with exaggerated politeness. He looked up as McGee came rushing off the elevator and into the squad room. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Abby called and told me Tony's missing," McGee explained. "I came back to see if I could help. It's okay, Boss, I'm not getting sick anymore, I'll be fine."

Gibbs nodded shortly. "Okay, see if anything has come up on the inquiries to the local hospitals. Also, find out everything you can about the Dawson County Sheriff's Department. They've been giving me the runaround, I've got a bad feeling about them."

"On it, Boss." McGee powered up his computer. "I should have gone with him," he muttered to himself.

"No, you were too sick. I should have put off my personal business and gone with him," Ziva replied.

"Then we'd be missing _two_ agents," replied Gibbs. "There was no way to anticipate something like this happening. Second-guessing what could have or should have been done doesn't do us any good. Hell, Tony could be stuck on a country road with car trouble. We've just got to find him."

"And then give him hell for worrying us like this," Ziva said with a smile.

Gibbs headed down to Abby's lab while McGee and Ziva continued to call the local hospitals.

"No sign yet, Gibbs," Abby said, as Gibbs entered the lab. "I'm really worried. Tony would never be out of touch for so long."

"I know, Abs." Gibbs gave her a comforting hug. "We'll find him."

"No sign of his car either?"

Gibbs shook his head.

"Wait a minute," Abby exclaimed, rolling her chair over to her computer excitedly. "Didn't they start putting GPS locators in the company sedans?"

"Good thinking, Abs," Gibbs said, coming up behind her.

"I should have thought of it sooner," she said, shaking her head.

Gibbs squeezed her shoulders. "_We_ should have thought of it sooner."

Abby worked feverishly, screens flashing on her computer. "Okay, luckily the car Tony took was one of the ones that was fitted with a GPS locator. Now, I just need to find the signal and...damn, there's nothing! That's impossible!"

"Not impossible if the locator is damaged," Gibbs said, grimly.

"But, Gibbs," Abby said worriedly, "you said there hasn't been any report of an accident involving a car fitting that description."

"No, there hasn't, but there are other ways a signal could be cut off." Gibbs turned to leave the lab.

"You think someone did something to Tony and the car?" Abby called out.

"Maybe."

* * *

Early the next morning the team was gathered around the plasma screen in the squad room. They had worked through the night trying to track down their missing agent, with no luck.

"Sheriff Robert Nelson," McGee read information from his PDA. "He's been sheriff for the past two years. Before that he was in the Army, Special Forces. Served in Desert Storm, honorably discharged, received some commendations for bravery. I couldn't find out much about him as a sheriff, though, we'd have to ask around locally. There have been complaints of 'excessive force' used by some of his deputies."

"McGee, I want more history on this guy. Ziva, you're with me."

"Where are we going?" asked Ziva, gathering her things hurriedly.

"Dawson County."

* * *

Tony fell to the floor as the chains holding him up were released. He tried not to cry out, but couldn't help himself. Sheriff Nelson and his deputy were standing over him, glaring down at the injured agent.

"Your boss has been calling my office," said Nelson, giving Tony a sharp kick. "It looks like we're going to have to cut this short."

"I'm disappointed," Tony said wryly. "We were just starting to get to know each other."

Nelson laughed. "You are a smart ass, aren't you?"

Johnson grabbed Tony's hair and pulled him up, backhanding him sharply. Thrown back, Tony lay on the floor of the barn, his head spinning. Before he could get his equilibrium back he was dragged out of the barn and thrown into the trunk of a car. He must have passed out because the next thing he knew he was being dragged out of the trunk and into an abandoned mine.

The two men dragged the bound agent deep into the mineshaft until they reached a small cavern. Once there, they pulled a long chain that was bolted into the wall and attached it to the cuffs that Tony still wore.

"You've done this before," observed Tony.

"We've entertained other guests," confirmed Nelson. "No one remembers about this mine, and this is private property, so there's no chance you'll be found. If you're still alive when your boss gets tired of looking for you, maybe we can pick up where we left off."

"He won't be so easy to get rid of," Tony said. "The guy's an ex-Marine, he's like a pit bull."

"Is that right?" Nelson grinned in anticipation. "This could be interesting."

Johnson leaned down, grabbed Tony by the throat and pulled him up. "I hope you do live. I want to come back here just to watch you die."

Tony fell back against the wall of the cave. "I'll try to wait for you," he said sarcastically, coughing.

Darkness enveloped Tony after the two men left, the light from their flashlights trailing off with them. As his eyes got used to the darkness, he could tell that he was just as helpless as he had been in the barn. The heavy chain was firmly bolted into the cave wall, nothing short of a pickaxe would loosen it. His shoulder was either dislocated or broken, he couldn't quite tell, and his hands had gone numb from the tightness of the cuffs. There was no way he was going to get loose on his own. He thought about an earlier case, one where he had almost ended up keeping company with a corpse and a half-dead Marine. The memory of the desiccated corpse made him shiver. He hoped that wasn't what Gibbs found, if he was even able to find Tony.

Gibbs was on his way and knowing him, he wouldn't be satisfied with whatever line of bull the sheriff was going to feed him. All Tony could do was sit and wait. He was weak from the blood loss and trauma he suffered, plus he was dehydrated. He was already feeling the cold. It was going to be a long wait.


	5. Chapter 5

The sun was beating down relentlessly as Gibbs and Ziva pulled up in front of the Sheriff's office. Walking toward the ramshackle building, the two automatically checked their belts for their weapons. Gibbs held the door open for Ziva and the two entered the office.

"We're looking for Sheriff Nelson," Gibbs said to the young woman at the front desk, holding up his NCIS identification.

The clerk examined his ID. "The Sheriff's not in right now, Special Agent Gibbs," she said.

"When do you expect him in?"

"I don't know, sir; I'm sorry."

Gibbs' patience was wearing thin. "I've been trying to reach him since yesterday afternoon. Is there any way you can contact him by radio?"

"I can try, sir," she said, turning to the radio controls behind her desk. "Sheriff Nelson, this is dispatch, can you read me?"

There was silence, the clerk tried again. Finally they heard crackling and a tinny voice said, "This is Nelson, what is it Bonnie?"

"Sheriff, there's a Special Agent Gibbs here looking for you. Says he's been trying to call you since yesterday."

"Is that right? I'm about five minutes away, tell him to make himself at home, I'll be right there."

"Roger, Sheriff." She turned to Gibbs and Ziva. "Can I offer you some coffee?"

Gibbs smiled. "Coffee would be great, thank you."

"Nothing for me, thank you," Ziva said.

"Have a seat, please, I'll be right with you." The clerk indicated two wooden chairs and went back into the kitchen area.

True to his word Sheriff Nelson and Deputy Johnson arrived at the office a few minutes later.

"Come on into my office," Nelson said, after greeting Gibbs and Ziva. The four of them went into the small room. "What can I do for you, Agent Gibbs?" he asked.

"One of my agents has gone missing. He was in town to interview a Navy corporal who was home on leave. He never came back to the office. We checked with the hospitals between here and DC. Yours was the only local police department we haven't been able to talk to." Gibbs kept his tone neutral.

"You called last night?" Nelson asked. At Gibbs' nod, he continued, "I'm sorry, but we have a new night clerk. Jamie's not too smart; he's the Mayor's son, we had to hire him."

"That's very interesting," Gibbs interrupted, "but we've wasted almost half a day trying to reach your department."

The sheriff nodded understandingly. "I hear ya, and I'm sorry. Do you have a picture of your agent? Something my men can show around town?"

Gibbs pulled out Tony's picture and handed it to Nelson, who handed it to his deputy. "Luther, make copies of this. You and Joe go ask around, see if anybody's seen this guy."

"Sure thing, Sheriff." Johnson took the picture and left the office.

Nelson leaned back in his chair. "I can tell you right now, Agent Gibbs, there hasn't been an accident in this county recently. At least, none that have been reported to us. Could your boy just be off joyriding?"

"Special Agent DiNozzo does not joyride," Gibbs said, glaring at the other man. "He called in to tell me he was on his way back to headquarters, but he never showed up."

Nelson nodded. "Okay, then. Really, I don't know what to tell you. We'll ask around, see if anyone in town's seen him. Want us to pull together a search party for you?"

"If you don't mind, I'd like to ask around myself," Gibbs replied.

"Sure, no problem. People here are kinda close-mouthed with strangers, though," said Nelson. "I could come with you, get 'em to open up."

"No thank you," Gibbs replied, "we'll call you if we need help. Let us know if your men turn up anything." He handed Nelson his card. "You can reach me on my cell."

"Sure thing," Nelson said, rising from his seat as Gibbs and Ziva stood. "I'll be around."

"I don't trust him," Ziva said as she and Gibbs headed back to their car.

"Me neither," agreed Gibbs. He drove into the small town, pulling up in front of the only eating establishment in sight.

"Are we going to stop to eat?" Ziva asked in surprise.

"Knowing Tony, what do you think he did before he set off on a three-hour drive back to headquarters?" Gibbs asked.

"Stopped to get something to eat," Ziva said firmly, smiling at Gibbs as she followed him into the diner.

The diner had a few of what could be called the morning breakfast crowd left. Gibbs and Ziva chose an empty booth and sat down. After a few minutes one of the two waitresses came up to them.

"What can I get you?" asked Sarah. She was an older woman, in her mid-fifties, her salt-and-pepper hair pulled back and tucked into a hairnet.

"Coffee, please," Gibbs said politely, flashing the woman a friendly smile.

"No food?" Sarah looked annoyed.

"Sure, how about a couple of eggs, over easy, hash browns, and sausage," Gibbs said.

"I'll have the same," Ziva said, "but no sausage, please."

Sarah nodded and shuffled off.

"I thought we weren't going to eat," Ziva said under her breath.

"We can't just start off asking questions, Officer David," replied Gibbs, softly. "People will shut down if you push them too much, too fast."

Sarah came back with their coffee. "Food'll be up in a minute," she said shortly.

"Thank you." Gibbs smiled at her again. Ziva watched in amusement as the older woman seemed to soften a bit.

"I see Tony's not the only one who charms the ladies," she said softly, after the waitress had left.

Gibbs chuckled. "I have my moments," he said.

"Mmmmm, how many wives?" Ziva asked playfully.

"Never mind."

Sarah returned with the food. "Here ya go. Can I get you anything else?" She was making eye contact now, and smiled.

"No, thank you Sarah," Gibbs said, "this looks delicious." Sarah smiled broadly and returned to the kitchen.

"Now what?" asked Ziva.

"Now we eat," Gibbs replied, "and watch. Have you noticed anything since we came in?"

"We got a few stares," Ziva said, taking a bite of hash browns and looking around casually, "but that's probably because we're strangers."

Gibbs nodded, digging into his food. "Anything else?"

"That other waitress is watching us. She doesn't look very friendly."

Gibbs took a sip of his coffee. "Mmm hmmm," he said, "does she look like someone Tony would chat up?"

"Young, pretty, amply endowed... yes, I can see Tony flirting with her," Ziva said.

Gibbs and Ziva ate in silence for a while, keenly aware of everything going on around them. Sarah came up with a pot of coffee. "Care for more coffee?" she asked.

"Yes, please," Gibbs said. "Thank you, Sarah," he said as she filled his cup. Reaching into his folder, he pulled out Tony's picture. "Sarah, have you seen this man?"

Sarah looked at the picture, her eyes narrowing for a moment. "No, I don't think so," she said thoughtfully.

"He would have been in here yesterday," prompted Gibbs.

Sarah shook her head. "I wasn't working yesterday. I was home with a sick kid, Sally worked the whole day on her own." She waved Sally over to their table.

"Sally, you see this guy yesterday?" she asked the younger woman.

Sally pursed her lips and examined the photo closely. "Let me think. Oh, yeah, he was here. Ordered the burger and fries. Left a good tip." She smiled at Gibbs.

"Do you remember what time he left?" asked Gibbs.

"'bout 12, 12:30."

"Did he leave alone?" Ziva spoke up.

Sally looked at Ziva appraisingly. "Yeah, he did," she said coldly.

"Did he say anything about where he was going?"

"He wasn't much of a talker," Sally said, "I got the impression he was in a hurry."

"Sally, Sarah, we got other customers," Clem yelled from the kitchen.

"Thanks for your help," Gibbs said, pulling out his wallet and paying the bill. He nodded at Clem as he and Ziva left the diner.

"She was lying," Ziva said.

"What tipped you off," Gibbs said, snorting sarcastically, "the line about DiNozzo not being much of a talker?" He stood by the car, looking around. "Let's take a walk."


	6. Chapter 6

Tony didn't know how long he had slept. There was no time inside the cavern, no sun rising or setting, no birds chirping their morning songs. He couldn't tell how long he had been lying in the same position because his body ached all the time. He noticed marks in the wall and realized that they were marks left by the pickaxes of the old miners. They had to be at least twenty or thirty years old. Tony closed his eyes and tried to imagine what life was like back then. He found himself humming, and then he began to sing the words.

"Heigh ho, heigh ho, it's off to work we go." His whistle wasn't very musical, but it conveyed the rest of the melody. Tony started chuckling to himself. He remembered going to see Snow White and the Seven Dwarves with one of his nannies. Sometimes he felt like Snow White, but that was silly, he wasn't a princess, he was a little boy. Maybe he was the handsome huntsman. Yeah, that was more like it, he was the handsome huntsman.

Gibbs would be Grumpy. McGee was Bashful. Ducky had to be Doc, who else would he be? Abby, that was easy too, Abby was Happy. What would that make Ziva? There's no way he'd call her Dopey, he liked living, thank you very much. Sneezy? No, that wouldn't work. She would either have to be Sleepy or Sneezy, or share the name of Grumpy with Gibbs. If Kate were alive she'd be Sneezy. He wondered how Kate and Ziva would get along, _if _they would get along.

He missed Kate. He wouldn't trade having Ziva around, but he wished Kate was still there, too. She was so much easier to get to; Ziva was too much like him. He hoped she got her paperwork straightened out; he'd hate to see them deport her.

Tony coughed, doubling over in pain trying to brace his ribs. The cold, damp air was getting to his lungs. If he didn't die of dehydration or starvation he'd probably die of pneumonia. Shivering, he curled up as tightly as possible to keep warm and feel asleep.

* * *

Gibbs and Ziva had made their way along the small roadway that served as the Hicksville's 'main street,' talking to everyone they met. No one admitted to seeing Tony, no one said more than two or three words to them, if they spoke at all. They just looked at the picture and shook their head. 

"This is going nowhere," sighed Ziva, leaning against the car, frustrated. "Do you really think that the Sheriff has something to do with Tony's disappearance?"

Gibbs' cell phone rang, he answered it in his usual manner.

"Boss," McGee's voice came crackling through the line, "I found out some more about the Sheriff's Department."

"Go ahead, McGee."

"I spoke to one of the people who filed a complaint about excessive force. A Joshua McHenry. He moved out of Dawson County after the incident. He says the Deputy by the name of Luther Johnson is a real psychopath; he gets off on power. I looked into Johnson's background and he was in the Army Special Forces with Nelson, but he received a dishonorable discharge for almost killing his lieutenant in a fight. McHenry says he's got a quick temper and he's very protective of his sister, Sally. She's a waitress at the local diner."

"The waitress at the diner is Deputy Johnson's sister?"

"Yeah, and she's also Sheriff Nelson's girlfriend." McGee confirmed.

"Tony must have caught their eye when he flirted with the sister," Gibbs speculated.

"You think Tony flirted with… what am I saying, this is Tony we're talking about. Is she pretty?" McGee asked.

Gibbs chuckled wryly. "With Tony, does it matter?"

"What do you want me to do now, Boss?"

"Get down here. Talk to the Director, tell her to send Lewiston and Rodgers and their teams."

"You want _me _to tell her?" McGee sounded nervous.

"Yes, McGee; explain what's happening, tell her about the Sheriff and his deputy and get down here with more agents."

"On my way, Boss." McGee hung up.

"McGee's coming down?" Ziva asked.

"Yeah." Gibbs looked around, distractedly. "Something isn't right about this town. The people aren't unfriendly, they're afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"Afraid to talk to us," he said, thoughtfully. "They could be afraid of what would happen to them if they told us anything."

"If someone knows what happened, but they're afraid to talk to us, how do we get them to _not_ be afraid?" Ziva asked.

"I'm not sure," Gibbs said, his eyes on a bench in front of the hardware store. An old man was sitting there, talking to himself, but he was staring straight at Gibbs and Ziva. Motioning for Ziva to stay with the car, Gibbs walked over and sat down next to him.

"Yellow is too bright for this room, need something softer, cooler… maybe blue," the old man mumbled. "Honey tastes good, mix it with lemon, pour it over biscuits. Millie made good biscuits, best in the county. Clem can't make 'em, his are like rocks."

Gibbs sat quietly, looking around casually.

"Don't mess with the girl, he gets mad, real mad. Don't even talk to her. She's a she-devil, she'll tempt you. She likes to see him mad."

"Who gets mad," asked Gibbs softly.

"My Emma made a good rhubarb pie. She's gone now, long gone. No one makes rhubarb pie no more, just apple, sometimes strawberry."

Gibbs waited patiently.

"The two of 'em, both of 'em, they're evil. He killed someone just for saying hello to her. Slit his throat. She thought it was funny. They're bad, stay away."

"Did you see this man?" Gibbs showed the man Tony's picture, but he didn't look at it.

"My boy's gone now. Went over to fight in the war and came home in pieces. Killed Emma. Wish it'd kill me, but I'm still here. I'm still here. You talk to those two. They know what happened. Maybe he's dead too. Maybe he's in pieces."

The old man started mumbling incoherently, his eyes closing as he drifted off to sleep. Gibbs sighed and stood, returning to the car.

"Did he tell you anything?" Ziva asked.

"He tried to, in his way. I think he knows something but he's so far gone he can't articulate it coherently. One thing I did get, though, the Sheriff and his deputy know what happened to Tony."

"Let's go talk to them," Ziva said.

"We will, just as soon as McGee gets here," Gibbs said firmly. "We'll talk to the two of them and the waitress."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I added a scene to this chapter in response to some valid concerns expressed to me privately and not so privately. That section hasn't been beta'd, see if you can figure out which part. ;)

* * *

Gibbs pushed his way in to the Sheriff's office, followed by Ziva, McGee and two other agents. The clerk and other deputies were being guarded by more NCIS agents in the other room. 

"What's going on?" Nelson sputtered, reaching for his gun.

"I wouldn't do that," Gibbs said coldly, his gun aimed at the other man's head.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I have reason to believe that you and your deputy have knowledge of the whereabouts of my agent. One of you is going to tell me where he is." Gibbs' eyes were cold.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Nelson said calmly, sitting back in his chair. "I've never seen your guy, no one has."

"That's not true," Ziva said, "he was seen in the diner. Your girlfriend served him lunch." She leaned closer to him. "Do you think she served him something else?"

Nelson's face turned red. Gibbs pulled Ziva back. "Not now, Officer David. I'll question Sheriff Nelson later." He went behind the desk and handcuffed Nelson to his chair. He turned to the two agents standing by the door. "Make sure he stays behind his desk. Ziva, McGee, with me." The two agents followed him out of the room.

* * *

"Where's Agent DiNozzo?" Gibbs' voice was low and hard, a dangerous sign to anyone who knew him. Deputy Johnson didn't, and remained relaxed, even cocky, leaning back in his chair casually. 

"I don't know any DieNozzo," he drawled, smiling lazily at the agent. The next thing he knew his chair had been kicked out from under him and he was pushed up against the wall, Gibbs' face just inches away from his own.

"I know you're involved in his disappearance," Gibbs hissed. "If you don't tell me where he is, I'll make sure you end up in a hole so deep your own mother won't recognize you when you get out."

"You got nothing on me," growled Johnson. "You can't lock me up for no reason."

"Oh, I'll find a reason." Johnson swallowed hard at the sight of the feral grin on Gibbs' face. "I'll find a reason to have you thrown into the worst federal penitentiary in the country. And I'll make sure the other inmates find out that you're a pedophile. They love your kind in prison. You'll be spending the rest of your life bent over or on your knees."

"I never hurt no kids," sputtered Johnson, struggling to loosen Gibbs' grip on his shirt.

"That's what the charges will say. By the time anyone tries to mount an appeal, you'll be well-acquainted with your fellow inmates."

"You can't do that," protested the terrified man.

"Watch me." Gibbs released Johnson, and stormed out of the interrogation room, leaving the deputy there to contemplate what had just happened.

Ziva and McGee were waiting in the corridor.

"Did he tell you where Tony is?" asked Ziva.

"Not yet."

"Let me talk to him," Ziva said, her eyes glinting dangerously. "I'll get him to tell us, and I won't leave a mark on him."

Gibbs shook his head. "If anyone is going to break any rules, it'll be me," he said. "We'll let him stew for awhile."

"Gibbs," protested Ziva. "Tony may not have the time. We don't even know if he's still alive."

"He's alive. If he's not, someone will pay."

"At least let me talk to the girl," argued Ziva. "I know she's in on this somehow. Give me fifteen minutes alone with her."

Gibbs studied Ziva for a moment, considering her suggestion. Finally, he gave a curt nod. "Fifteen minutes. Nothing physical, Ziva. Just find out what you can."

Ziva nodded. "I will."

"McGee, you're with me." Gibbs strode off briskly, with McGee following close behind.

* * *

Robert Nelson was sitting sullenly behind his desk, still handcuffed to his chair and guarded by two NCIS agents. Thoughts of how he was going to make Gibbs pay for this indignity filled his mind and he smiled to himself. 

"What's so funny?" Gibbs and McGee entered the office, dismissing the other agents.

Nelson just looked at the senior agent, his eyes narrowed, the smile still lingering on his face. Gibbs pulled up a chair and sat across from the sheriff while McGee stayed by the door, never taking his eyes off Nelson. The two older men stared at each other for a moment, neither one saying a word.

Finally Gibbs sat back and smiled. "You're not a local," he said casually, "how'd you get yourself elected as sheriff?"

Nelson shrugged, "The people know a good lawman when they see him. They needed someone to come in and clean up the riffraff."

"That's not what we hear," Gibbs replied. "Agent McGee, tell Sheriff Nelson what you found out."

"According to the State Police, the crime rate in Dawson County has been pretty low, about average for a population of its size. The last sheriff was in office for twenty years and never had to fire his weapon."

Nelson gave a scornful snort, "No one talks to the State Police around here."

"Special Agent McGee is pretty good at digging up facts," Gibbs replied. "You'd be amazed at what he can find out. Go on, McGee."

"I spoke extensively with Joshua McHenry," McGee continued, pleased at his boss' endorsement, "who's had a few run-ins with Deputy Johnson."

"McHenry's a drunk," Nelson said, "you can't trust a thing he says."

McGee shook his head, "McHenry joined AA, he's been clean for sixth months. He seemed very reliable when I spoke to him. I trust what he says."

"We've also heard from DEA," Gibbs added, "it seems there's been a sudden increase in problems with drugs in the neighboring counties. Drug-related crime has gone up significantly in the past two years. What do you make of that, Sheriff?"

Nelson shrugged, "I guess they don't have as strong a sheriff's department as we do."

Gibbs chuckled, "Could be," he agreed. "Or it could be that you've got a drug running operation going and are spreading your poison to the counties around you."

"Do you have any proof?" Nelson said, smirking at Gibbs.

"Oh we'll get it," Gibbs replied, leaning forward. "Trust me, you're going down for that. The question is, do you want to add kidnapping and murder of a Federal Agent to the charges?"

"I don't know anything about your missing agent," Nelson said.

"I think you do," Gibbs said, "I think you found out that your girlfriend came on to Agent DiNozzo and you got jealous. Maybe you were threatened by him. He's young, handsome, charming; and he's a Federal Agent, not a local cop. Maybe you were afraid your pretty girlfriend would run off with him."

Nelson snorted, "Sally would run off with a pig farmer if he gave her the time of day. Since I've never seen your agent, I can't say whether or not I'd be jealous, but I guarantee you one thing, I don't feel inferior to any Federal Agents."

Gibbs smiled ruefully. Sheriff Nelson wasn't going to be easy to trip up. He sat for a moment before he spoke again.

"You were in Desert Storm," he said.

Nelson nodded.

"Received a few commendations for bravery," Gibbs continued. "I guess Dawson County was about as far away from the Middle East as you could get."

Nelson stayed silent.

"What did you do to get those commendations?"

"You know so much about me," replied Nelson, "I'm sure you've read the reports."

"It just surprises me that a former Special Forces man would want to settle down in a rural county and set up a drug operation, especially with your record. I can understand your deputy coming back home and causing trouble, but you're a mystery," Gibbs cocked his head and looked at Nelson appraisingly.

"Marines never did get us," Nelson said, chuckling.

Gibbs eyebrows went up, "How did you know I was a Marine?" he said in surprise.

Nelson shifted uncomfortably. "You look like ex-military," he said, "and you act like it. I just guessed."

"Really," Gibbs replied. "Good guess." He stood up and leaned over the desk, his face close to Nelson's. "I'm going to find my missing agent, and if he's dead or he dies by the time I get to him, you and your deputy will never make it to prison alive," he murmured softly, "Count on it."


	8. Chapter 8

Gibbs had Nelson and Johnson moved to the holding cells and locked up. Now he, Ziva and McGee were sitting in Nelson's office, exhausted and frustrated. They had spent the last six hours grilling Nelson, Johnson and Sally Johnson, but were unable to get an admission of anything out of the two men. Time was slipping by and they had no idea if Tony was alive or not.

A search of the local gas station had uncovered pieces of the government sedan; the vehicle had been stripped of all identifying tags and the GPS locator had been destroyed. The townspeople were still wary of the government agents, even with their sheriff and his deputy behind bars. There was still a chance, in their minds, that they would be released, and anyone who had cooperated with the Federal agents would be dealt with.

"Maybe I should try the waitress again," Ziva said. "She watched them torture Tony." It hadn't taken much to get the waitress to talk. Sally had described the beatings and torture in great detail, her eyes bright with excitement. Ziva could barely keep herself from strangling the woman when she heard what her boyfriend and brother had done to Tony. In the months she had been at NCIS, Ziva had developed a fondness for her partner. She respected and admired his abilities, though she'd never tell him that to his face. She was used to working alone, but with Tony, she knew she was covered. And he made her laugh. He was a major reason why she felt so at home at NCIS. She silently berated herself for not being with him on this trip.

"I don't think she knows where he is," Gibbs disagreed. "She may have been there when they tortured him, but I don't think they would let her know where they were dumping him."

"We're never going to break the sheriff," McGee said dismally. "And from what Sally described, it sounds like Tony's in pretty bad shape. He might already be…"

"He's not dead," Gibbs said firmly, glaring at the younger agent, storming out of the room angrily.

"I should have come with him," McGee said softly, his eyes moist.

"We'll find him, Tim," Ziva hugged him. "We'll find him alive and take him home."

Gibbs stood on the porch, staring off into the distance. He had no idea where Tony could be. Deep down he knew that the younger agent could already be dead, or close to it. Time was slipping away and he was no closer to finding him than he was five hours ago. He felt guilty; he shouldn't have sent him out alone. There was no way to foresee this happening, logically he knew that, but the guilt was there just the same. The guilt that would haunt McGee for getting food poisoning and Ziva for having to deal with the State Department. Guilt that none of them earned or deserved, but guilt that they would shoulder for the rest of their lives if Tony didn't come through this alive.

Gibbs spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned and saw the old man wandering down the street. Gibbs stepped off the porch and ran to catch up to him.

"Jimmy left the tack out in the rain. Papa got so mad at him, whupped his hide with his belt. Jimmy never did that again." The old man chuckled to himself.

"I need your help," Gibbs said softly, standing in front of the man and looking him straight in the eyes. "I need your help finding my agent."

"You lost your boy too?"

"Yes," Gibbs replied, "I've lost my boy. Do you know where he is?"

"My boy got killed in the war," the man said sadly, "my only child. He was a good boy, a good son. Not right for a father to outlive his son." He shook his head sadly.

"No, it's not," agreed Gibbs.

"Your boy wasn't in the war, was he?"

"No, he wasn't."

"Papa died of the black lung. Spent most of his life digging up coal. Died young. My boy died young. Why didn't I die young?"

"Please, can you help me find my boy?" Gibbs asked, his tone pleading.

"Lots of men died of the black lung. Awful way to go, cough your life away. Awful way," his voice trailed away as he sank deep into his memories.

Gibbs sighed and dropped his head. Suddenly, a thought came to him. He hugged the man and ran back into the office.

"McGee, get Abby on the phone," he yelled. McGee quickly complied.

"Did you find him?" Abby's anxious voice filled the room.

"Abs, I need you to look up any abandoned mines in the area, anything within a twenty square mile radius," Gibbs said.

"Mines? As in gold mines?" They could hear the keys to Abby's keyboard clicking in the background.

"As in coal mine, this is West Virginia, Abby, not California."

"I found one, Gibbs," Abby said. "There's an abandoned coal mine about ten miles east of you. It's about two miles off highway marker 24."

"Let's go." Grabbing his gear, Gibbs raced out of the room, followed closely by Ziva and McGee.

"Gibbs?" Abby's voice echoed in the empty room. "McGee? Ziva?"

* * *

It was already dark by the time they reached the site of the abandoned mine. They could barely make out the opening; Nelson and Johnson had covered it up carefully with brush. Once inside they followed the shaft, their flashlights lighting the way. 

"There's a cave of some sort up ahead," Gibbs observed, quickening his pace. The three entered the opening and shone their lights around.

"There he is." Ziva rushed over to where Tony lay. He was very still, his skin cool to the touch. "I don't think he's breathing," she said.

Gibbs pushed past her, setting his flashlight down. He put his head down on Tony's chest. "He's alive," he said. Carefully, he examined the injured man. Tony's face had a few bruises, but didn't appear to be damaged too seriously. His wrists were cut from the handcuffs, his hands swollen. The abuse described by Sally Johnson was evident, Gibbs wanted to get him out into the open where he could be examined closely. What worried him the most was the harsh sounds of Tony's breathing. The younger man was having difficulty drawing in air. Gibbs knew that he was more susceptible to lung problems since his bout with Y-pestis, and he feared Tony would develop pneumonia.

"We need to get him out of here," Patting Tony's face gently, Gibbs called to his agent, "Tony, wake up."

"DiNOZZO!" he yelled.

Tony stirred and started mumbling.

"What did he say?" asked McGee.

"He said he doesn't want any apples," Gibbs said.

* * *

Two days later, Gibbs, Abby, McGee and Ziva were in Tony's hospital room. They had managed to get Tony out of the mine without aggravating his injuries any further. Tony's right shoulder had been dislocated and had been put back in place, his arm bandaged to his side to keep him from moving it. The injuries he had suffered had been serious, but not life-threatening and he was expected to make a full recovery. The two areas of most concern were his lungs and his hands. Tony had developed a mild case of bronchitis, now being controlled by antibiotics. The swelling in his hands had gone down and the nerves, tendons and ligaments hadn't been permanently damaged. The doctors had surmised that the young agent was born under a lucky star, though the fact that he kept finding himself in precarious situations contradicted that belief. 

"Here you go," Ziva said proudly, handing him a sling-like device.

"What's this?" he asked, holding it up with his free arm.

"It's for your arm," she said. "I crocheted it. You're really supposed to use it to hang potted plants from the ceiling, but I think it will make a good sling."

"You crocheted this?" Everyone stared at Ziva, not quite believing what they had heard.

"Yes," she said defensively, "I crocheted it. Is there something wrong with that?"

"Oh, no." "Of course not." "It's beautiful." The others protested.

"So, Tony," McGee said, "I guess you'll be more careful about who you flirt with now."

"Sure, Probie," said Tony, "and you'll be careful eating raw fish, right?" He laughed when McGee turned pale and swallowed convulsively.

"What's going to happen to the crooked sheriff and his deputy?" asked Abby.

"They'll go on trial for attempted murder," Gibbs said. "It turns out they've killed before, so they'll go down for murder as well. They won't be seeing the outside of a jail cell for a long time, if ever."

"Thanks for finding me, Boss," Tony said. "I'm sorry I caused so much trouble, but I swear, I didn't do anything."

"I know, Tony," Gibbs said. "You were in the wrong place at the wrong time and talked to the wrong woman. You've just got lousy timing."

"Yeah," agreed Tony, "Maybe I need to settle down, stop flirting with all the beautiful women."

"Oh my god," exclaimed Abby, "is he feverish?" She reached up and felt Tony's forehead.

Gibbs shook his head and watched fondly as the rest of the team teased their injured teammate.


End file.
